


Not In Kansas Anymore

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape, Multi-Fandom
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Crack Fic, Future Fic, In-Jokes, Movie Quotation(s), Multi, Pop Culture, Quote Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lost human astronaut in possession of what he thinks is a good plan must be in want of his wife. </p><p>Or, to put it another way, as sure as Vorcs defecate in maintenance bays, John Crichton would sooner or later be in need of rescuing by Aeryn Sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not In Kansas Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to Don Vorleone's Starburst Challenge Number 70, which, to paraphrase, asked for a library, a bar and someone other than John to quote a movie. Hmm.  A soldier and a bar, a scientist and a library... how hard could it be?
> 
> Setting: Some years post PKW in a Universe where Jack Crichton Jr is a student at Vorlag State University.
> 
> Spoilers:  Are you kidding? If you insist: John and Aeryn are married. They have kids. Scorpius is not Aeryn's dad.
> 
> Thanks: To Vinegardog for reassuring me that this isn’t a festering pile of dren, for correcting my apostrophes and all of that other good Beta reader stuff.
> 
> Disclaimer: Take it....  Please. I lay no claim to this. I ate too much cheese before bed time.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lost human astronaut in possession of what he thinks is a good plan must be in want of his wife. Or, to put it another way, as sure as Vorcs defecate in maintenance bays, John Crichton would sooner or later be in need of rescuing by Aeryn Sun. Except, just this once and for complicated reasons of his own, John Crichton was actually trying to avoid his much beloved spouse.

It was the start of a new semester at Vorlag State University: The Sun-Crichtons had dutifully loaded up the transport pod with Jack, their wayward younger son, and scores of boxes full of assorted stuff which had no obvious connection with studying. Both before and during the short flight down to the planet Aeryn had naturally questioned the necessity and wisdom of transporting several of Jack's possessions a number of times and at great length. This had caused a certain frosty atmosphere to develop in the pod. Once they had landed and the transport pod had been unpacked, John had decided to allow Jack some more valuable mother-son bonding time, saying that he wanted to visit the university library to conduct a little research of his own. Mother and son seemed too focussed on their latest discussion to notice John and so he quietly slipped away.

Deep in his subconscious, it had always bugged John that Aeryn had never told him the truth about a number of things. Hence, during the flight, he had decided to take the opportunity of having an academic library to hand to resolve one particular burning issue once and for all. 

He cast his gaze furtively around the room, checking for Mrs Crichton. The coast was clear. He lowered himself down in front of the big desk, opened the relevant volume of the Encyclopedia Galactica and started leafing through the D’s.

“Drad, Drak….. Dren… no, too far… back up a bit.”

“You don’t want to waste your time in here.” Aeryn cast a scornful eye over her surroundings and its denizens and perched herself on the desk next to him. Frell! Where had she sprung from?! And why did he feel so guilty, it wasn’t like she'd caught him red handed...

"Looking for pictures of naked Sebacean jirls again? I don’t think a university library, even a Vorlag  one, allows that sort of thing." He looked up at her, cheeks reddening. After a couple of microts she allowed a wink to intrude on her stony features. "Have you tried looking for pictures of naked Nebari girls instead?"  

He coughed and spluttered, his guilty conscience regarding previous 'research' almost revealing she had cut dangerously close to home with her joking question. 

"I'm sure Jack can spare you some of his," she remarked, starting to swing her legs with boredom. "He seems to have more than enough. Perhaps we should send him to a Peacekeeper training camp, get it out of his system...?"

“I’ll just be a microt…” he mumbled into the workstation, trying to avoid her eye. 

“You think you’ll find anything useful….?” She arched a knowing eyebrow as she snorted derisively, casting her gaze around the library in a way which suggested she didn’t have too high an opinion of Vorlag academic standards. 

"I want to find out what Drannits are...." he muttered in high dudgeon as his fingers tapped away. "Seeing as how someone won't just tell me."

“Drannits?" She laughed loudly, perhaps surprisingly earning disapproving looks from a number of nearby Vorlag students. She jumped down from the desk and rubbed her hands on her trousers before clapping them together. "OK, I’ll show you one. We’re going Dwannit hunting.”

"Really!?" John, shocked, excited and surprised in equal measure, stood hurriedly. Too hurriedly, as it turned out. He barely had time to register the force with which his head struck the overhead light fitting before reality started to take on a fuzzy, psychedelic swirl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Here's Johnny."

“Is he alright?”

“I think so.”

“Did anyone see what happened…?”

"Oh, we couldn’t possibly do that... Who'd clear up the mess?"

“John, John, talk to me,” Aeryn’s sweetly concerned tones cut through the confusing babble of, mostly male, voices. 

"Is it safe?" John mumbled incoherently.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Aeryn asked, ignoring his question.

“Mmm…  Twenty?” John ventured as the maelstrom swirling before his eyes began to resolve into merely a kaleidoscope. He knew it was way too many than what he ought to say, but it was still fewer fingers than he was actually seeing. Mama Crichton's baby boy was going to have one humdinger of a headache later. "I feel like I've been hit over the head with a sack of P'au tuber toes."

“He’ll be fine.” A gruff male voice stated. John’s head protested against what he regarded as an optimistic prognosis even as a bunch of leather-clad hands grabbed his arms, and other parts, and hauled him to his feet. 

“I thought he’d had it there, when that Drannit charged him,” remarked a voice from behind. The tones were disturbingly familiar – like someone he should recognize, but…. A pair of hands landed on his shoulders, steadying him momentarily before releasing him. He fought back the urge to vomit over them. A ridiculously large, heavy gun was thrust into his arms. It had to be a Peacekeeper weapon. That, or a Hollywood action-movie-hero weapon.

“Wh… what do we need guns for…?” John ventured, staring at the gun, trying to gain a point of focus. It was just so frelling big! Why did it have to be so big?

"What do you think?" someone snarked. He was disturbed at the realisation that it might well have been Aeryn. 

“No no no!"John protested. "We can’t just go around shooting them! What if they’re sentient life… intelligent… self-aware….?”

“Don't give me any of that intelligent life dren, just give me something I can blow up!” Aeryn replied in a macho tone, priming her gun and coming to stand in front of him, toe to toe.

“What the hezmanna are we supposed to use man? Harsh language?” A man just behind Aeryn asked in a mocking tone, snorting in agreement with John's wife. “We’re goin’ Drannit huntin.’”John squinted over Aeryn's shoulder at his questioner in order to try to make out who it was. Somewhat unexpectedly, it turned out to be Meeklo Braca. However, John’s poor, tormented brain had no time to dwell on this disturbing revelation as new surprises were coming thick and fast along with the return of his vision. 

“It’s a bughunt,” Aeryn explained, efficiently checking John’s weapon for him like a hot, black leather-clad drill sergeant.

John was somewhat surprised to discover that, instead of the library or a nice cosy cell aboard Moya, they appeared to be standing in some sort of drinking establishment. Or, more specifically, something that resembled the bar out of Casablanca. Except for the distinctly Uncharted Territories patrons, who resembled something out of a SciFi, or rather a SyFy, monster movie. The strange combination meant that it was not an establishment that he thought that he, or anyone in their right mind, would ever choose to patronize. 

"What are we doing here?" John asked weakly.

"Everybody comes to Velorick's," Captain Crais answered, nodding towards a suave looking Sebacean in a white tuxedo holding court near the bar next to where a Vorlag was tinkling out an old tune on an upright piano. 

Something was definitely a bit... off. But John couldn’t quite put his finger on what. The whole crowd seemed to be here, after all. Apart from Braca, Crais and Aeryn, he had already spotted Scorpius, Ka D’Argo, and even DK and a hard looking woman with a nasty facial scar who disturbingly reminded him of his wife. But this looked like a cocktail bar, not a place where heavily armed leather-clad posses gathered. Something was very, very wrong.

“But I see dead people….” John began, trying to put his confusion into words and so define and maybe contain the madness. He cast his eyes desperately about him. One of his black-leather-clad companions had a small, ferret-like creature on a leash. Casting his eyes further around, he watched with fascinated horror as the enormous, toothsome and tuxedo'd lupine barkeep grabbed hold of something resembling a faceless, fluffy guinea pig and began enthusiastically to mop the bar with it. “Is that a Drannit?” he heard himself ask weakly, pointing at the bar.

“Don’t be silly John,” his wife scolded, rolling her eyes as though explaining the simplest, most obvious thing to a child. “That’s a Vorlag holding a Tribble.”

“Oh,”John replied weakly. The Tribble squeaked loudly, presumably in protest at being used as a bar towel. “But of course it is. And that?” He asked, nodding his head once towards the ferret-like critter. Aeryn shook her head dismissively.

"That's a groundhog."

“Hey, nice marmot!” John ventured weakly, waving at the person holding its lead. They seemed unimpressed, looking like nothing he could say could possibly be of any significance to them, and sneered back at him.

"And what's Scorpius doing here?" John demanded, pointing at the half-breed.

"That's not Scorpius, it's Harvey," Aeryn replied, as though no further explanation was merited. Harvey sidled up to Aeryn, took her firmly by the shoulders and then they exchanged outrageously ostentatious cheek kisses. 

"My darling daughter asked me along, son." Harvey, still holding Aeryn, explained to John. Harvey turned back to Aeryn and they exchanged familiar smiles.

"Liar! Talyn's her dad!" John replied, determined not to let such a claim pass unchallenged..

"No, I am her father," Harvey insisted in a deep, mellifluous voice which sounded like he was mimicking James Earl Jones. 

Just then, before John could further dispute his claim, the room began to shake violently.

“We’re on an express elevator to hell! Goin’ Down!” Sikozu squealed nearby as the bar began to spin whilst simultaneously morphing into something very much resembling the rabrokator from Katratzi.

“Hey, careful, man, there's a beverage here!” someone shouted as John stumbled backwards against him.

"Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night!" shouted someone else in his ear.

“I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.” John cried, but no one seemed to hear him. Or maybe they did hear, but weren’t paying him any attention? Just as he felt his poor, abused head could take no more the spinning abruptly stopped. He found himself tumbling into a tangle of prickly vegetation, the rabrokator having vanished as suddenly and inexplicably as it had appeared. 

“John!” He heard Aeryn calling for him, concern evident in her voice.

“We’re going on a Drannit hunt!” Braca sang from somewhere nearby.

“Aeryn!” He called back, struggling to climb to his feet through the brambles. “Don’t worry babe, I’m fine!”

“I’m not scared!” She insisted, reaching out, grabbing his arm and pulling him from the brambles.

“ _We’re_ not scared…” everyone else chimed in, correcting her. John was not sure whether to be more surprised by the singing or by the fact that Scorpius had come into his line of sight and had now changed into a fluffy bunny costume.

“Madness! Madness!” John protested, turning away from the Peacekeepers and assorted hangers on. He began to run, desperate to get away, and found himself following DK through the undergrowth. Both of them held their guns at the ready, perhaps should a Drannit suddenly appear?

“You know, I wish I had my board with me...” DK remarked to John over his shoulder. “Even if I could just wax it once in a while...” John grunted. He wished he’d his board with him too. It wasn’t easy being stuck in deep space for years without even his surf board. “So, you’ve been out here a few years now...” DK rambled on over his shoulder as they ran onwards. “What do you do for recreation?”

“Oh, the usual. I bowl. Drive around. The occasional acid flashback,” John drawled. It somehow seemed an appropriate thing to say, under the circumstances. DK chuckled, as though recognising the reference, which, of course, being an Erpling and John's friend, he probably did. 

"No, not that sort of recreation." DK turned around to face John, licked his lips, and swung his gun round to hang behind him from its shoulder strap. "It must have been hard for you out here, without the comfort of another human... how about you show me how hard it got?" DK had nearly pulled the zip of his tunic all the way down now.

"No!" John demurred, starting to back away and holding up his hands to ward off his friend.

“What are you afraid of, John?" DK asked, legs akimbo. Having finished with the zip, he was now starting to shrug the vest off his shoulders. John started slowly to back away.

Suddenly, something large and colourful shook the undergrowth roughly 20 yards behind DK. John’s gun was raised and firing in a microt, the pulse blast barely missing his half-naked companion.

“You nearly shot me!” DK accused John, swinging his own gun round from behind him and accidentally firing it into the ground as he did so. Peacekeepers burst from the undergrowth on all sides. Aeryn looked furious, and John was suddenly terrified that she might attack his childhood friend for some reason: It was a toss-up in John's mind as to whether she'd be more angry about DK accidentally discharging his weapon or about the 'come up sometime and see me' pouts he was sending John's way. 

“Crichton shot first!” Braca stepped in, shielding the hapless DK from Aeryn’s wrath. 

"So, is this what you meant by 'kissing cousins'?" Aeryn furiously demanded of DK and her husband, gesticulating madly, like a betrayed wife on a trashy daytime TV show.

But John didn’t stay around to find out if the almost-inevitable fight ensued. He was already galumphing through the bushes, chasing after the creature he had just shot at. Suddenly, he got a clear view at it. It looked like a giant, colourful beachball with a pair of long-toed scaly lizard-feet.

"Now it's time to go sleepy-bye you worthless piece of garbage!" John cackled with glee as he fired his gun at the critter.

"Wait, John, that's not a Drann...!" Aeryn cried out from behind him. But it was too late. With a ripping, flatulent sound like a giant, comical beach ball deflating, the creature succumbed to John's shot, flying hither and thither around them for a few microts before coming to rest at his feet.  

"Was that a Drannit? That was a Drannit, right? Please tell me that was a Drannit!" John pleaded.

"No," Aeryn stated emphatically over his shoulder, having caught up with him. "No, and no." She added for superfluous completeness.

"Well, it would help if you could actually see your way to telling me what one looks like," John snarked, turning to face her.

"Its eyes are orange, its tongue is black; it has purple prickles all over his back." Aeryn replied with a grin. John frowned whilst his mind tried to process where he had heard that before.

"That's not really what they look like is it?" he enquired softly after a few microts.

"No." She grinned back. He could have sworn her eye twinkled as she bit on her bottom lip. One of her fingers twisted a raven curl in the middle of her forehead. When she was good she was very, very good, but when she was bad....

"Oh. Well." Did she think she could get around him that easily? Well, OK, maybe she could. "When do you suppose I might get to find out what they look like, then?"

"Drannit! Drannit!" Braca shouted, destroying the moment. He appeared suddenly, running through one bush, passing between the couple and then continuing to run through the opposite undergrowth. "It's alive! It's alive!"

"Very soon I expect," Aeryn calmly indicated the departing rear of her erstwhile shipmate.

"Run away!" Braca's rapidly receding voice encouraged them. "Run for your lives! Drannit!"

"Never give up, never surrender!" Aeryn called encouragingly after Braca, before swinging her Big Frelling Gun from her shoulder and charging off in the direction that the Captain had just come from.

"Aeryn!" John called after her. She didn’t reply, but the crashing noises coming his way were too loud and spectacular to be caused by a single Peacekeeper. "AERYN!!!!" he shouted again. Still no reply, just crashing sounds and a BFG being discharged. He shrugged and charged after her.

Only to come immediately face to face with the strangest, scariest sight he had even seen.

"aeryn?" he whimpered.

His eyes widened in shock, just before a sudden blow to the head sent him reeling.

~~~~~~~~

"John, John, are you alright?" asked a concerned female voice which seemed to belong to Aeryn.

He struggled to open his eyes. His relief at seeing a concerned Aeryn peering down at him was tempered by the visceral fear he momentarily felt on seeing that she was surrounded by a sea of giant furry, fanged faces. The monsters seemed concerned. Vorlags, he remembered, fortunately before he could succumb to squealing like a little jirl. He blinked and looked around him.

He seemed to be lying on the floor of what looked very much like a university library.

"Where... where am I?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.

"In the library. You hit your head," Aeryn answered.

"It wasn’t with a candlestick or a lead pipe, was it?" John asked, rubbing his head as he sat up.

"What?" Aeryn giving him the 'what is the crazy ooman talking about this time?' frown. "No, of course not. Why would you say a thing like that?"

John sighed heavily as memory returned.  Why indeed would he say a thing like that? Perhaps he was a slow learner? "Was I looking up 'Drannit' in the encyclopedia?" 

“Yes," she replied in her patented, matter-of-fact manner. "Then I offered to show you one instead. Then you banged your head. You've been unconscious for about 50 microts." With the aid of a Vorlag in a preppy Vorlag State team sweater she hoisted him back onto his seat. "Do you still want me to?" he frowned in incomprehension. "Show you a Drannit?" She asked as she tenderly rubbed the bump on his head. Knowing how pragmatic his jirl was, he speculated that she was probably just distracting him while she checked for fractures. 

Did he still want her to show him a Vorlag....  oops, a Drannit? An interesting question in light of his recent hallucinations. His mind recalled how badly things could go south when Dwannit hunting. He shook his head and instantly regretted doing so. A few microts and a wave of nausea passed. He really needed to sit down somewhere for a while.

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn about what a Drannit looks like right now.” John affected a Southern accent and arched an eloquent eyebrow, much to Aeryn's confusion. A twinge of pain from his head reminded him to stop being such a smart Alec until he'd had a nice cup of something almost but not quite entirely unlike coffee and a long lie down. “Let's just go back to Moya instead....." he whimpered softly. "After all, there's no place like home.”

 

The end.


End file.
